‘Bloody hell!’ Erin erupted furiously, standing up and walking away, only to spin back. ‘No wonder I couldn’t get hold of you!’
Cristo appraised with appreciation her slim, pale, delicately curved body in the brief red bikini she wore. ‘If it’s any consolation, Appollonia is the party most punished by the fallout from all this.’
Turning pink at the intensity of the gaze resting on her heaving breasts, Erin crossed her arms to interrupt his view. She hated the way he could just look at her and her body would have an involuntary reaction while her brain fogged over. ‘And how do you make that out?’
‘You’re the one in possession of grandchildren she has never seen. Had she known you were carrying my child she would never have targeted you and she would have supported you in every way possible. I told her how alone you had been and she felt guiltier than ever,’ he completed wryly.
‘So, what happens now?’
‘We go down to the village and see the priest and fill out the forms for our wedding.’
‘You want to get married here on the island?’ Erin was taken aback by the idea.
‘I’ll fly out your mother along with any friends you want to attend.’ Seeing that that assurance had no visible effect, Cristo unfolded to his full impressive height, adding, ‘We’ve been apart a long time—I don’t want to wait long for the wedding.’
‘I didn’t realise it would be happening so soon,’ Erin responded tentatively. ‘When I agreed to come here it was only for a week to escape the press because you got so hot and bothered about them.’
A faint smile softened the harsh curve of his shapely mouth. ‘Everything has changed between us since then, koukla mou.’
It had changed in the bedroom, Erin reflected guiltily, recalling how easily she had succumbed to his hot-blooded hunger for her. She had said yes where she should have said no and that was the only green light that a male with Cristo’s high voltage libido required.
‘I barely remember my birth parents. They’re just a stylish photo on the wall,’ Cristo remarked tautly. ‘The first five years of my life I was raised by nannies. I was always being told not to bother my parents because they were such busy people. They had no time for me and little interest.’
Erin was frowning. ‘Go on …’
‘I didn’t know what a normal home and parents were like until Vasos and Appollonia took charge of me. They spent time with me, talked to me, took an interest in my small achievements and gave me love. I owe everything I am today to them. I want to do the same thing for Lorcan and Nuala.’
She had not realised that his early years had been so bleak and she understood his attitude, for her own childhood had been almost as troubled and insecure. Marrying Cristo made sense, she reasoned ruefully. She wanted her children to have a full-time father and the chance of a happy family life. Cristo was offering her that option and she put as high a value on that lifestyle as he apparently did. But he would not have wanted to marry her had she not had the twins and that hurt. It hurt that he didn’t love and want her with the same intensity that he wanted their children.
That evening Sam Morton phoned her. ‘Your mother told me you were in Greece. I was shocked.’
‘We’re getting married, Sam.’
‘Yes, she told me that as well. Of course that’s the safest choice for Donakis if he wants access to his children. I understand that he consulted an expert in family law in London to find out exactly where he stood. Watch your step, Erin. In a Greek court, he could gain custody of the kids.’
Erin’s blood ran cold at that forecast. ‘Are you trying to scare me? We’re getting married, not divorced.’
‘I think it’s very convenient for Donakis to marry you now but he wasn’t interested in marrying you three years ago. Don’t forget that.’
Sadly that was a fact that Erin never forgot and she could have done without the second opinion. Had Cristo consulted a legal expert? How had Sam found that out? No doubt someone knew someone in the legal field who also knew Sam and word had got back to him in that way. Ought she to be worried? She supposed it was understandable that Cristo should have sought advice when he first found out that he was a father. That was not in itself wrong. Even so, the knowledge sent a little buzz of insecurity through her that she could not shake.
‘Cristo,’ she said towards the end of the evening while she worried about whether it was foolish of her to trust Cristo to such an extent. ‘Would you mind very much if I slept on my own until the wedding?’
Cristo frowned. ‘Not if it’s important to you.’
‘With Mum arriving a few days before the wedding, it would really be more comfortable for me,’ she told him stiffly.
One week later, Cristo and Erin were married in the little church overlooking the town harbour. She wore a white lace dress, tight on the arms and fitted to make the most of her slender figure, obtained from a designer in Athens. Her mother had thought her daughter was being controversial buying into the whole white wedding fantasy when she already had two young children but Erin had seen no reason why her special day should not live up to her girlhood dreams. After all, she loved Cristo Donakis and preferred to be optimistic about their future.
The Greek Orthodox service presided over by the bearded priest in his long dark robe was traditional and meaningful. The church was crammed with well-wishers and filled with flowers. The scent of incense and the fresh-orange-blossom circlet placed on her head mingled headily and, strange as it all was to her, she loved it, loved Cristo’s hand in hers, the steadiness of his lion-gold gaze and utter lack of nerves. For the first time she felt that they were meant to be together and she fought off downbeat thoughts about what his wedding to Lisandra might have been like as it was clearly not on his mind.
The days running up to their wedding had been exceptionally busy. She had had to take Nuala to an Athens hospital to have her cast checked. Mercifully everything had been in order and the little girl had not required a replacement. That appointment had been followed by a shopping trip to buy Erin’s wedding gown. The next day she had first made the acquaintance of Cristo’s father, Vasos Denes, when he came over to meet the twins. Initially appearing stern and quiet, Vasos had slowly shaken off his discomfiture over his wife’s interference in Cristo’s private life and its disastrous side effects to relax in his son’s home and Erin had decided that he was a lovely man. She had been surprised when Cristo explained that his father’s company was on the edge of bankruptcy but that the older man refused to accept his financial help. She had soon grasped from whom Cristo had learned his principles and even if his volatile nature warred against them and occasionally won—as in when he had blackmailed her into going to Italy with him—she knew Cristo did try to respect scruples and operate accordingly.
In a gesture made purely for Cristo and his foster father’s sake, Erin had volunteered to take the children to visit Appollonia Denes at their villa on the outskirts of the town. Even on the medication her doctor had advised to help her with her low mood, the older woman had been stunned to see the twins and tears had trailed slowly down her cheeks while she attempted awkwardly to express her regret for the actions she had taken almost three years earlier. That she absolutely adored Cristo had shone out of her and her wondering delight in Lorcan and Nuala had inspired pity in Erin. She knew it would take time before she could forgive Appollonia for what she had done but she was willing to make the effort.
